The Renaissance
by Deimos-in-Flames
Summary: The road to peace is wrought with tragedy and triumph, and enemies grudgingly become allies when a new threat looms on the horizon.


The innocent, crumbling facade and faded blue paint of the abandoned factory cunningly betrayed what sinister plot stirred in the warm, gentle Anaheim night.

"So, an associate informed me that my services may be of some use to you." The woman's voice was soft and low against the waning cry of sirens in the distance.

The Happy Time Toy Factory was entirely deserted and left to disintegrate in disrepair. The graffiti sprawled across the crumbling plaster walls had even begun to fade from years of sunlight and exposure.

It wasn't so bad, he decided at last, in a desperate, war-torn sort of way.

Not as ruined at Puck World after his forces redecorated the puny planet, but there was no denying that Earth certainly had potential.

Likewise, there was no denying that Earthlings had potential, or at least some of them that had recognized the inherent superiority of his kind and joined the battle.

"And which associate would that be?"

He spoke with an accent she could not place, distinctive phonetics that lent a lofty air of nobility to his words. It was not at all how she had expected a reptilian conqueror from another galaxy would sound; perfect, articulate English was more shocking than the expected raspy hissing.

Fangs flashed in the dim light, something between a smile and a snarl, and golden serpentine eyes narrowed, watching the human with the intense curiosity of a python peering down at a cornered lab rat.

"A mutual friend. Phineus Viper. I've done some _work_ for him in the past, and he said you might make some use of my talents."

The warm glow from the single naked bulb cast long, black shadows over the gutted interior of the edifice, and a single moth fluttered around the flickering light.

A faint stirring of ancient predatory instinct drew his attention to the restless insect, then back to the mammal.

Viper, he mused, was among the most loyal and enthusiastic of his Earthly subjects, with a sense of duty and camaraderie that extended past the boundaries of business.

And, Viper had highly recommended the woman, his Chief of Security for ViperCorp's towering headquarters.

Former Chief of Security, the Saurian surmised, since those wretched waterfowl shot down his upgraded Raptor prototype and took out Viper's business headquarters in the process.

The Chief of Security looked like every other human he had the misfortune of meeting. Pale, scaleless skin, and a decided lack of claws and spines. Stringy hair spilled freely from the hood of her jacket and tumbled down her shoulders, the color of dry straw.

Altogether she was an ugly, primitive creature.

Most of them were though, but working with them was a necessary evil if he ever hoped to conquer their planet and take revenge against the citizens of Puck World.

He had expected that Viper's agent would be male; not from some inborn trend toward gender bias among his kind, but because it was usually so among humans.

This female, though, was not of the young, dewy variety popularized on the public broadcast channels. She was approaching the summit of mid-life, with an aura of experience that somehow managed to graze on the congenial side of jaded, even as the set of her eyes and her stance suggested a strong military background.

"What are your qualifications, human?"

"I am a sniper..."

His laughter was dark and low, resonating through the empty factory, caught between devious and incredulous.

"...with 187 confirmed kills to date, and seven years sniping experience."

There was nothing in ordinarily impressive about a chimp that learned to beat two rocks together, howling and screaming.

There was, however, something fascinating on an archaic level about a chimp that learned to beat two rocks together to make fire, then set enemies ablaze with sadistic delight.

His laughter was cut short, and withered, his smile turned vicious and pointed.

"In addition, I am a graduate of Westpoint, the best military academy on this planet, and served ten years with the United States Army. During that time, I studied combat leadership and explosive weapons technology, in addition to seeing combat action in Operation Desert Storm and Desert Shield..."

She paused, gathering her thoughts before she continued. "My best work has been done since I retired from the military and became...something of a freelance sniper."

"An assassin for hire..." He drawled, clawed fingers steepled together in thought. "Intriguing. Perhaps... yes, you may be of some use to me. What is your price?"

"Not an assassin," she corrected, "my trade is much more honest. An elevated artform distilled to purity. And I'm not for hire."

A low growl of anger was reflexive. "Then you're wasting my time..."

"No, what I mean to say is, I'll gladly donate my services to your cause, free of charge." Her smile was a warm reply to his snarl, sincere and apologetic. "Viper said you've got a little duck problem I might be able to help you with."

"Those miserable mallards! They've been a thorn in my scales since I crash landed on this miserable dirt-ball two years ago!"

Somewhere in the darkness, a cricket was frightened into silence, and the woman flinched visibly.

"So I've heard." She murmured softly. "It seems it would be in our mutual best interest to be rid of those birds. My interest is personal. Revenge. I've been told you'll understand that. Maybe even sympathize with my cause, as I sympathize with yours."

"Revenge." Oh, how he loved that word and every dreadful, horrible thing it implied. "Yes, go on."

"Viper also says there's a war coming. I don't want to be on the receiving end of whatever you and your kind have planned for this _miserable dirt ball_ I happen to call home." She laughed in spite of herself and the precarious predicament of her home world. "All I ask is diplomatic immunity in exchange for my services."

He reasoned there might be some purpose for a creature of her talents in his empire, but nothing obligated him to make good on his word once those wretched ducks were eliminated and humanity groveled for mercy before him.

Diplomacy was not one of the Saurian Overlord's finer qualities.

"Then we have a deal, Earthling"

"Fantastic." The human extended her hand, and he eyed the gesture with apprehensive curiosity, manifest as an expression of vexation across his barbed features.

"Oh, yeah, that. It's a gesture of trust and alliance," she offered gently, "my species shakes hands when they come to an agreement or make a deal..."

"I know that." He hissed, not particularly keen on the idea of touching her. Never the less, observance of an inferior species' social rules facilitated trust and loyalty.

He reluctantly obliged, with a distasteful scowl.

Her hand was impossibly small in his clawed grasp, warm and soft, and he made a mental note to scrub extra good beneath his claws once he returned to the ship.

"Your first mission," he pulled away, absently wiping his hand on the front of his robe, "is to eliminate a pest of a different kind. Your own kind, actually. Dr. Egon Swindle has double-crossed me for the first and last time. Destroy him by any means you deem appropriate."

"Affirmative."

"And when you are finished, use this to teleport to my ship for further instructions."

She caught the device he tossed at her, a cylindrical, rust-red metal tube, with a black button on the side.

"The coordinates are set. Do not disappoint me, sniper."


End file.
